


Similarly Different

by Star_Phoenix



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Hospitals, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Jamilton - Freeform, Jamilton Week 2017, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reverse roles, eight one shots all strung together!, there's a song fic in here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-17 21:19:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9345821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Phoenix/pseuds/Star_Phoenix
Summary: Some say that love comes in many different shapes and forms, but what no one ever really talks about is how it's literally the most difficult and different thing that someone can ever experience. And oddly enough, Alexander and Thomas get to experience it in all sorts of ways.-Or, Jamilton Week 2017.





	1. Day 1 - Reincarnation AU

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in the fandom so I'd love some feedback!  
> Thank you all in advance for reading! :)

Thomas' life is already put together and he's well on his way to climbing the corporate ladder when he meets Alexander Hamilton.

It was an odd meeting, one that would have never have happened under any regular circumstances.

But, years later, he'll look back on it in horror and think, what would have happened in he hadn't bumped into Alexander at all? 

Answer: Nothing he lived for now.

* * *

 

"Come on, James," Thomas bit out, eyes narrowed as he walked down the bustling streets of New York City, an overly sugary coffee in hand, "cut the crap. I'm not ' _lonely and depressing'_ because I don't have a boyfriend. And don't give me that shit about how Dolley made you a better man! I'm doing fine."

His co-worker snorted in laughter on the other end of the line, "Yeah, yeah, whatever Thomas. Just get back here, Washington is going to tar and feather your ass if you're late again. And if I have to bullshit your argument for your budget one more time I'm going to-"

"Okay, okay, yeesh calm down. I wasn't that late last time!"

"An hour and a half is missing the damn meeting."

Thomas shrugged, taking a drink of his sugary monstrosity before continuing, "I'm like two blocks away and the meeting doesn't start until four. And it's only, what? Three? So, I'm good. Bite me, Madison."

"You wish."

"Oh, my  _Jemmy_ how did you ever know? Am I that obvi-" He didn't get the chance to finish the sentence because a large a large and burly man shouldered past him, knocking him off of his desired course...and straight into a shorter man who was directing workers on the painting of the new Broadway portraits. 

The man managed to stop the two of them from falling but when Thomas stepped away, he was already apologizing, "Oh, god, man, I'm so sorry. I was just-" He paused when the shorter whirled around dark eyes narrowed and teeth bared in a way that was familiar, too familiar.

He took in a sharp breath and remembered  _everything._

Thomas didn't know how long he had been standing there, only that it took him a few moments to realize the smaller man-no,  _Alexander Hamilton_ was talking to him in an annoyed yet confused voice, "Uh, are you alright, Sir?"

"Oh, yes, sorry," Thomas replied, shaking his head and hardly being able to keep the twinge of glee out of his voice, "you just remind me of someone, Hamilton." He tried to stop it but the name slid off his tongue. And already, Thomas was reeling, but Hamilton only raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, people already know about the musical? Opening night isn't for a few weeks yet!" His confused expression melted into something of a large smile and he extended a hand, that Thomas took instantly (if someone said 'eagerly', he would deny it like nothing other), "Oh but you can call me Alexander, well, Alex! Yeah, and before you say anything, my mom was a real history nut so I just didn't change my name to match the main character of the play!"

Thomas blinked and laughed, watching how a dusting of pink spread across his cheeks.And he realized  _Hamilton didn't remember._ "I can see why someone would think that, Alex." He glanced down at his buzzing phone, Madison must've hung up and resorted to spam texting him, "I should probably get back to the office before I'm chewed out for being late, it was nice meeting you."

"You too!" Alex's eyes widened and suddenly, he dug into his jacket pocket with his free hand. "Okay, I'm not this straight forward usually but," he handed out a small business card, "here's my number."

"You want me to call you?"

"Yes." His eyes were sparkling in the same light they did when he defended his banking plan all those years ago.

Thomas pulled his hand away, ignoring the tingling sensation and finally, smiling, "Well, I guess I'm going to have to do that."

And he started to walk away, pocketing the card and realizing that  _Holy shit, when did Hamilton get hot?_

* * *

 

After weeks of phone calls, crazy schedules and Madison's boisterous calls of  _"You finally remember and it's because of a hot guy! Oh my god, and it's Hamilton. Don't mind me, just going to toss myself off the thirty-seventh story because of course! You falling back into committing your natural Jeffersin.",_ Thomas finally found himself standing in front of an Italian Restaurant in the purple suit only he could pull off. He was wiping his sweating hands on his pants and trying to list all of the reasons he was not going to run off and just skip this date entirely.

"Oh my, Thomas!" He turned, just in time to see Hamilton walking forward, hair down and slicked back and adorned in a green suit that was the same shade he had worn all those years before, "You look...wow."

"So do you." He smiled and held how his arm to the smaller man, "Shall we?"

After being seated and some breadstick appetizer being ordered, he turned to Hamilton and smiled wide, "So, how was opening night?"

"I got shot and then got a standing ovation," He chuckled, eyes glittering with mischief before sipping his drink, "so I'm counting it as a win. How was your budget vote for the company?"

Thomas' smile faltered on slightly when his mind flicked to the thought of  _More difficult than it had to be. Why can't you just remember?_ "Great, kicked Adam's ass on his argument and now my budget will be running the company's finances for the three years."

"That's great!" Alex smiled comically wide and then it faltered slightly, his brow twitched and Thomas was already leaning forward.  _Come on, remember!_ "Oh sorry, lost my train of thought there."

The rest of the dinner went well, it all went to hell on the walk home.

* * *

 

First, it had started raining. 

"You know, I usually don't invade personal space on the first date," Alex was laughing, hiding under Thomas' outer coat while tucking himself into the larger man's chest, "but I'm making an excuse just this once."

Thomas was laughing and running along the sidewalk towards their destination.

 

Second, the roads were slippery.

The two had taken shelter under an overhang of a door as the rain got worse. Alexander was laughing at the way Thomas' hair had seemed to double in size, while Thomas only stared out at the endless flood of traffic and pedestrians. Tires were screeching as the cars hit the rougher sections of the road.

"My apartment is only down the street," Alex offered, skin bathed gold in the diner's sign light, "we could make it there and wait it out."

"Oh my, Mr. Hamilton, are you trying to get into my pants already?"

Thomas was kicking himself for the outburst when he saw Hamilton's face flush scarlet, but the man had only shot back, "Eh, get me drunk first and we'll see,  _Sweetie._ "

The two dissolved into giggles as a taxi skidded in front of them. 

 

Third, Hamilton was still the selfless bastard he was back then.

Thomas hadn't even seen it. Hell, he didn't even hear it over the sound of the downpour. But he had only felt the warmth that had been Hamilton leave him cold. He blinked, staring at the mass of green dart through the river of pedestrians. 

He didn't see what happened next and later, he considered that a blessing.

Instead, he heard a woman screech followed by a sound of tires screeching to a stop. Following that was a blissful silence that was beheaded by the sound of terrified shouting. It was at times like this, Thomas was thankful for his long legs and history as a track sprinter because he had made it to the site of the accident in a fraction of a moment. And what he found was something he never wanted to see again.

 

Fourth, Jefferson isn't the same as he was back then.

Seeing Hamilton laying there, a motionless mass of sodden green-well, almost black in the muddied light and the rain, in the grey street. The woman he had pushed out of the way was staring, slack-jawed and seemingly processing the fact that she had been almost hit by a car. Thomas was the first at Alex's side, his hands shaking in absolute terror because the face that had been laughing and smiling only moments prior was nothing more than slack.

He looked dead.

And Thomas remembered that he didn't go to Hamilton's funeral.

"Oh god, sweet lord, Alex!" Thomas was shouting over the rain, his coat abandoned beside him, "Look at me, open your damn eyes."

This wasn't Weehawken. And he wasn't Burr. Alex moved slightly, dark eyes opening to the rain but not caring that his vision was obscured, "Thomas?"

"You idiot!" He was saying without a thought, eyes wide at the way Alex still wasn't moving to get up, "What were you thinking? You could've died."

And Alex laughed, the motion causing his body to convulse slightly. Sirens rang in the distance. "How to tell this is a different time?" Thomas' eyes went wide and bile rose in his throat to the point he was choking on it, "You actually care."

His eyes closed and Thomas was left reeling in the rain. 

* * *

 

He was still dripping wet in the hospital. All he had been told was that Hamilton wasn't badly injured, he had rolled off the hood of the car and the most damage that had been done was fracturing a wrist and bruising nearly one side of his ribcage.

Thomas had never really sat at someone's side in the hospital, definitely not when they woke up. It had been hours and Thomas hadn't called anyone. He didn't know anyone who would show up for Alexander and he was in too much of a shock to really understand the accident fully.

"God I hate hospitals." Was the only sound that Alex made when he woke up.

"Then don't jump in front of a car, then," Thomas sighed and Alex's hazed over eyes went wide in shock as they snapped to his date, "I didn't know who to call."

"You know, after dealing with your shit back in eighty-nine," he voice was slightly slurred and Thomas was smiling only slightly that  _of course, Hamilton could only remember something after his life was almost endangered,_ "I'm still surprised that you're still here. Was this not some ploy to get me to remember?"

Thomas shook his head sharply, scattering droplets of water from his still-wet hair, "No, it actually wasn't."

"That's good. You're actually not a dick and I actually like you."

"Drugs talking?"

"Probably."

And the two laughed. Thomas stood and stood over the injured man, "You know, if I had been told two months ago that I was reincarnated Thomas Jefferson and I'd be dating Alexander Hamilton, I would have called the person crazy."

Alex rolled his eyes, wincing at the movement but continuing anyway, "Oh please, I definitely had a worse wake-up call."

Thomas leaned down, face barely inches from Hamilton's. He breathed in the scent of rain and antiseptic, "No doubt there. But, if we're being honest, I think I'm all for this odd relationship."

"Same here."

And Thomas kissed him.

* * *

 

"You do realize that you won't be able to perform for a few days, right?"

_"Shit!"_


	2. Write from Favorite Fan Art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this: http://midnigtartist.tumblr.com/post/150548916343/but-where-did-he-get-the-handcuffs-tho-insp

"Since you've been acting like children," Washington's voice was annoyed and his tone final as he gestured to the two in front of him, "I've created something called a 'friendship' bracelet for the two of you."

"Sir," Hamilton's voice was tight as he tried to pull away from Jefferson, only to have the taller man get tugged towards him, "you can't just  _handcuff Jefferson and I together!"_

Jefferson's eyes were narrowed as he growled out, "I don't this often, but I'm actually agreeing with him."

Washington chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest with a small smile, "If you two can actually get along for the rest of the day, then I'll unlock the handcuffs. I'm tired of you two fighting and so is everyone else."

"Sir!" The two happened to say at the same time but didn't say anything else because Washington broke off into laughter. 

"Looks like you're getting along already." He was laughing as he talked out of his office. "Come talk to me at six and not a moment before."

And once he was gone, Jefferson glanced at the shorter man with disgust. "Isn't this going to be so much fun!"

"Shut the hell up, Jeffershit." He shot back, "Now, we both have work to do."

"Of course." And Jefferson tugged, hard. Except, Hamilton had already been going the opposite way. The two were yanked back towards one another, only to result in both of the two slamming into one another. And of course, ending up on the floor...in front of the entire office.

Laurens wolf-whistled when he saw the way Jefferson's body had pinned Hamilton's below his. "Yeah, gettin' some!"

Hercules tossed his head back, cackling as he slapped Laurens on the back, "I knew they couldn't keep their hands off of one another!"

"Shut the hell up." Hamilton snapped, shoving Jefferson off of him, only to be yanked slightly to the side, "I'm five seconds from cutting my damn hand off!"

Lafayette chuckled at the two before shaking his head, "Honestly, _mes amis_ , this is why you don't piss off Washington."

"Where did he get these?"

Hamilton rolled his eyes at Jefferson's question, "Do you really want to know?!"

* * *

 

"Swear to god Hamilton if you keep jerking my hand I'm going to make you wish you never left the damn island!" Jefferson snarled, eyes narrowed as his fingers were dragged across the keys, skewering his words on his report. The Carribean snickered and tugged his hand again, utilizing the fact he was right-handed. 

"Oh," he saw when Jefferson glared at him, "I'm already packing my bags for Nevis."

Jefferson rolled his eyes, finishing his last sentence and sitting back, "Why do you have to be such an annoying ass?"

"Annoying you is very fun," Hamilton chuckled, "besides, you're a dick so it's considered self-defense."

"Piss off."

"Besides, why do you hate me? It's not like I've done anything to you."

The Virginian sucked in a breath and then, let out a sigh. "No, you're right. But you're loud and annoying and that's a perfect reason to hate you."

"Liar."

"Hm, maybe."

Hamilton glanced at him with a gaze through the corner of his eye and simply said nothing. The vague answer was more than enough to tell him something.

* * *

 

"Are the love birds enjoying themselves?" Lafayette chuckled as he neared Washington, who was enjoying, or at least trying to,  a steaming cup of coffee. The two in question were trying their best to eat their lunch with only one hand, "They seem to be getting along quite nicely."

The President of the Company burst into laughter when Jefferson yanked the hand Hamilton was resting his head on away. Only to send the Carribean head first into the table and causing a large amount of angered Creole French to coat the air. 

"Honestly," Washington sighed, "I never thought Madison would put me up to something like this."

The Frenchman grinned, "Well, let's be real. The entire office wants those two to stop arguing and bang."

He took a sip of his coffee and raised an eyebrow at Lafayette, "Me included."

* * *

 

"Why the hell would you do that?" Hamilton growled, holding on to his nose from when Jefferson had closed the door in his face. "When I called you a dick, I didn't mean for you act on it. God."

Jefferson shrugged, pausing a moment only to see if there was blood dripping down the smaller man's face. There wasn't any, so he continued. "Eh, maybe you should keep your big nose out of the doorway."

"You know that I could report you for assault." Hamilton growled, "But I won't, that would make me the asshole."

"Shut up, Hamilton." The Virginian sighed, moving into his office, "It's not like you wouldn't blame me for anything that happens to you. So, let's just continue for the day. We only have a few hours."

"Aw, sick of me already?"

"I'd much prefer to throw you in front of a bus, but that would piss off Washington and I'd hate to see what he'd do as a worse punishment than this." Jefferson shivered at the idea but after a few moments, he grinned, "He'd probably make me listen to recorded meetings of you defending the budget."

"Oh, you utter  _bastard-_ "

"Wouldn't that be you?" The way Jefferson said it was teasing, nothing malicious in his tone but the way he saw Hamilton's eyes flash was more than enough of a warning to tell him that he had screwed up. Bad. "Oh wait-"

"Shut your damn mouth," He had forgotten what it was like to see Hamilton truly angry. He had seen the man in a rant, spitting and cursing about whatever had set him off, but this. This was more than enough for Jefferson to understand what had pushed him to work so hard. "You don't get to call me that. You-you-you!"

It was an odd sight, seeing Hamilton stutter over his words. The man who really never shut up couldn't manage a simple sentence in his rage. Jefferson rolled his eyes and stepped forward until he was chest to chest with Hamilton.

"I'm sorry," Jefferson offered and Hamilton was staring up at him with large dark eyes. "How about that?"

"You can apologize, never would have imagined." Hamilton said gruffly and a dusting of pink was gracing his cheeks when he realized that Thomas wasn't moving away from him, "You can move away you know."

Jefferson raised an eyebrow, moving his hands slowly, just enough to allow Hamilton to follow their path as they rested on his back. They crept lower and the Virginian leaned down until they were nose to nose. "Well, you're not forcing me. So, I figured I might as well cut to the chase and no one really has to know about this."

A large hand snaked down to grip his thigh and Hamilton squeaked, " _Jefferson!"_

"Want me to stop?"

"No."

And Jefferson was right, no one really had to know about it.

* * *

 

Washington was frowning as he unlocked the handcuffs, thus freeing the two men. He raised an eyebrow, taking in their ruffled appearance and lettingout a tired sigh, "Remind me I owe Madison thirty dollars."

The two shocked sounds were hilarious but Washington only shook his head, "God, you two need to be quieter. Jefferson's and I's offices  _share a wall!"_


	3. Day 3 - Reverse Roles

Jefferson, in the end, couldn't understand how it happened.

Hamilton, a man who had willingly published his own affair to the world and ended his political career, was in the running for President. He had watched the ballot for the election of 1800 come in, his name third on the list while Aaron Burr and Hamilton were still with a measly ten electoral votes from another. But still too many away from the actual Presidential Win.

"I don't get it," Jefferson hissed to Madison, crumpling the results in his strong hands when he realized  _he wasn't in the running anymore_ , "how does Hamilton, the bastard who destroyed his own credibility, even get electoral votes?!"

Madison leaned forward, eyebrows raised slightly in the way that never asked questions, but only silenced them. "The people like honesty and after Adams' crazy acts, anyone is willing to get him the hell out of here. And oddly enough, Hamilton is the one who hated him from the beginning."

"His son was killed defending him!"

"Ah, but since he's lost a son, wouldn't that make him the last person who would go to war?"

After that, Jefferson said nothing, instead, he turned, crumpled results in hand and walked out of the office. Madison didn't call after him, his friend always seemed to know his intentions.

* * *

 

It was raining when he stepped up to Hamilton's door. Water dripped from his coat and he would hate to wonder what would happen if he stayed outside any longer. He glanced up, feeling cold water wash against his face. At this rate, he would no doubt come down with some sort of sickness or fever. He pursed his lips realizing that it would be Hamilton's turn to accuse him of faking an illness.

He didn't need to knock on the door, instead, the door swung open to reveal one Elizabeth Hamilton. Her brow raised in a wordless question but when she shivered against the cold air, she moved to allow him in. 

"You aren't the first to visit my husband," Her voice was oddly stiff as if the years and the subsequent turmoils had caused her to become something utterly different, "and something tells me you won't be the last, Mr. Jefferson."

He nodded his head to the lady of the house, "I believe you are right."

"Mr. Jefferson," he stiffened slightly at the voice of Hamilton because this wasn't the man he had argued with all those years ago, this was something tired and burnt out, "how nice to see you. May I ask what brings you?"

Elizabeth glanced back at him, eyes flashing with something dangerous before she moved towards her husband. She planted a kiss to his cheek and whispered something to the man, all before disappearing upstairs. When she was gone, Jefferson shed his coat, almost feeling that the woman's gaze was keeping him in place. "Oddly enough, Hamilton, I've come to see you."

He held out the results paper towards Hamilton in an instant, the man's eyebrows raised and in the candlelight, his dark eyes glittered. The Carribean sighed, motioning for Jefferson to follow him into his office, "Jefferson, I already know. And if you've come to demand how I campaigned, I will tell you that I didn't. I never did. My name only got on that ballot by write-in."

"You seem shocked." That wasn't the way to explain it. Jefferson frowned at the words, but when he looked at Hamilton he didn't see a force of nature anymore, instead he saw the dying embers where a forest fire once raged. Hamilton let out a laugh.

"I am because," he paused, squaring his shoulders as he turned, perching on his desk as he stared back at the Virginian, "I didn't want this. I haven't thought about politics since before..."

He trailed off, choking on the sob and Jefferson didn't have to think hard about what he was referring to. In the end, it was Jefferson who moved forward, breaking the silence as he rested a large hand on Hamilton's shoulder. The Carribean looked up and Jefferson swallowed. He didn't look like the ever youthful Hamilton anymore, he was reminded more of the sad silence that Washington carried with him. 

"Hamilton," his voice was low, Jefferson had abandoned all of the false loudness that he used to gain power. It didn't feel right anymore, not here, "well, in this case, I need you to win."

* * *

The House of Representatives were voting and suddenly, Madison was playing his hand. Jefferson should have never spoken in front of the House, but instead, his friend's influence and calling in favors had forced the purple-clad Virginian in front of the House. Madison was chuckling, promising that this would benefit both of them, as he shoved his friend into action. Jefferson's hands were shaking and he could feel real fear crawling into his throat. 

Until he saw a flash of emerald in the shadow of a door. He blinked, dark eyes widening as he followed Hamilton's shape. This was, as far as Jefferson knew, the first time the man had actually worn something other than the dark blacks that had consumed him ever since his son's funeral. It almost looked wrong, but if felt right. 

Madison stood next to Hamilton, saying something that Jefferson was too far away to hear. He didn't see Burr but he saw the supporters in the crowd and he swallowed down the fear. 

He opened his mouth when the silence was prevalent. 

And the words he had thought up, suddenly failed him. Leaving the known Virginian Spitfire defenseless and looking like an utter idiot. Until he raised his head, gripped the podium tight and finally said one thing:

"Hamilton has my vote."

He didn't stick around for the chaos that followed.

* * *

 

Hamilton won by a landslide. There was no other way to explain it. Jefferson's support had caused the southern states to rally behind Hamilton, leaving their support for Jefferson behind. Madison's cashing in on favors had forced newspaper companies to support the Carribean as well. It was a landslide, the only other word to describe it would be a slaughter.

"Burr is still the Vice President," Hamilton replied, watching the Southern Democratic-Republicans celebrate, "and I don't think he's happy."

Madison chuckled, swaying with his wife Dolley as she tried to maneuver her drunk husband out of the room, "Who cares at the moment? You won,  _Mr. President._ Burr has to deal with this for four years. Let him fester! Goodbye, Mr. President." Dolley waved her goodbye before easily shouldering her husband's weight and dragging him from the room. 

And that left two.

"It's been awhile since I've seen Madison drink like that," Jefferson chuckled as he shook his head, "but even when he's drunk I have to agree. Let Burr's qualms fester, if he wants to fight it out in the next one, let him."

Hamilton made a humming noise in the back of his throat before drinking the rest of his whiskey. "He'll wait for it." Was all he said to no one in particular. 

"I must thank you for the cabinet seat," Jefferson purred oddly, refilling Hamilton's glass as well as his own, all while sitting next to the President, "I was honestly expecting you to nominate someone else. As seeing that we are opposite parties."

"You have the most experience." Hamilton chuckled, but his face suddenly evened out as he said, "Eliza is happy for me, but she's worried that this is going to kill me."

Jefferson glanced at the man's stature, the hunched shoulders and the way his emerald coats seemed to hang just slightly. "I'm sure it won't." 

"You're lying," Hamilton replied, sipping the drink, "but, who knows? I guess what happens happens."

The Virginian said nothing but then he saw Hamilton set the drink glass down. He turned with a raised eyebrow, only to be greeted with a calloused hand brushing a curl from his face. The President smiled, glancing at the hairs between his fingers. Jefferson stood still, like a rabbit being circled by a fox. He was ready to run, but when Hamilton leaned forward he didn't shrink back.

The kiss was quick and deep and tasting of bitter alcohol. Jefferson made a noise of shock that tampered off instantly. Hamilton smiled against his lips before pulling back. Though, when he spoke again, his voice was soft and oddly calm, "As I said, what happens happens."

Jefferson leaned in.

* * *

 

They never talked about that night, instead, it was in their touches. The way Jefferson would hold onto Hamilton's shoulder as a wish of luck, or the way Hamilton would move Jefferson's hair from his face. No one noticed, or if they did, nothing was said. And it continued on for years, way until Burr had finally snapped. A letter asking for a duel in New Jersey was sent and Hamilton had went but not before kissing Eliza goodbye and hugging his once-enemy. 

But now, in the July heat, standing beside the widow as the priest spoke words of god about the President, he realized something. One simple, sudden thing that caused him to break down and shatter right there. Eliza had held his arm while Madison wrapped an arm around his shoulders as he sobbed, but it did little use.

He lost Martha and it had left his world technicolor and missing something to make it real. He found that missing piece in 1800 over too many glasses of alcohol only to lose it in New Jersey in 1804. 

But, when the years passed and the pain numbed into a dull throbbing, he would be asked about Hamilton, by Lafayette, and how it ended. A smile would spread across his aging features and he would simply say, "What happened happened."

 

 


	4. Day 4 - Song that Represents Them Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song used: Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, there's a panic attack at one point in here. It's not very detailed but just wanted you guys to know! Stay safe! :)

_Have you got color in you cheeks?_

_Do you ever get the feeling that you can't shift the tide?_

* * *

 

It's Jefferson that ends it. 

It's not a breakup that's an agreement or for the better of them. Instead, it's one caused by guilt and leaves a sour taste in Jefferson's mouth when he says it when he comes clean. He's sure he'll never forget the way Hamilton's smile dropped when he said it.  _"I cheated on you."_

He had kept the secret for weeks. He remembered when Alexander had done the same thing, he had called, sobbing and stuttering and apologizing. Thomas had been angry for days, but in the end, he had forgiven him. Everything had gone back to normal after that, for years, until now.

The conversation had gone like this:

_"Thomas...what?"_

_"I cheated on you. Weeks ago...and it's eating me alive."_

_"It's okay, I'm not-"_

_"I can't do this anymore."_

He had never seen Hamilton go silent but the second that sentence left his mouth, the shorter man stood and left Thomas' apartment. 

He didn't some back. He didn't call or text. The two went their separate ways. And that's how it ended.

* * *

 

_Are there aces up your sleeve?_

_I had no idea that you're in deep._

_I dreamt about you nearly every night this week._

* * *

 

Hamilton, he was simply known as Hamilton now, Hamilton was professional while Alex was something that meant attachment and that he wasn't over it. He didn't seem to change to Thomas. He was still the loud ass who would argue with everything Thomas put forward and believed in, but now his anger was just a tad sharper and he didn't smile like he used to. Thomas didn't really see a change. Everyone else did.

"He's not pushing your buttons anymore, he's going for the throat." Was James' observation, "You screwed up, bad."

Lafayette had shaken his head with a sigh, " _Mon petit lion_ isn't drinking his coffee or tea. He's drinking those god awful energy drinks."

That was odd and Thomas called him out on it, "What's the big deal on that, Laf?"

The Frenchman had frowned deeply and for once, Thomas didn't see his smile or hear the cheeriness in his accented voice. "He said they tasted like you."

Thomas hadn't said anything after that. He had, instead, turned away from the break room, throwing his coffee in the trash before entering and shutting the door. He didn't come out for hours, losing himself in the paperwork he hated. 

But when he did come out, he was greeted with a sight that made his stomach drop. 

Hamilton was laughing, standing close to the Schuyler sisters but instead of standing away like he usually did, he had a thin arm snaked around the waist of Eliza. It wasn't friendly, it was possessive and loving at the same time. Thomas' breath hitched when he recalled the way that thin arm was a hot weight against his own waist all those days ago. 

The man in question had his eyes on him as he kissed the girl's hair. Thomas shivered and returned to his office, a burning feeling deep in his stomach. His hands were shaking when he remembered what had been. What he wanted again. What he was dreaming about. 

 

It had been an hour before they were to leave when James walked in, sitting in the chair opposite of him as he simply said, "You've seen them, haven't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said back, wincing at the fired edge in his words and the way James rose his eyebrows was more than enough to tell the Virginian that his friend had caught it, "Okay, I did. So what? Hamilton's moving on. That's good."

The subject was changed instantly. "You haven't been sleeping."

"James-"

"Why?"

Thomas sighed. There was never any winning with James when he asked a question like this, "I can't. Every time I close my eyes it's  _him_. And it's just like our second date when we danced in Central Park but when I go to touch him I wake up. James, I can't do this."

His friend let out a sigh, "The guilt was eating you alive over your one night stand and now you can't stand...what?"

"The silence. The empty house." He blinked, staring at his shaking hands when Hamilton always seemed to still them, "The cold bed. James, we spent years together and now...it's like it didn't even matter. He has a Schuyler sister."

James rolled his eyes like he knew something Thomas didn't.

* * *

 

_'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow_

_When I play it on repeat_

_Until I fall asleep_

_Spilling drinks on my settee_

* * *

His violin had been retuned again and again. He was trying to find it, that right note, the right pitch that would replicate the way Hamilton could sing. He would sing whenever he thought no one was listening, in the shower, when he cooked, copying papers. He always did it and it always sounded beautiful. It was deep, yet high. Weak yet powerful. And no one else could sing like that.

He brought the bow across the strings and he flinched. The sound was beautiful yet it was wrong.

"Damn it," Thomas whispered, eyes tired and downcast as he took another drink of the expensive liquor, "damn it,  _come on._ "

It was easily three in the morning and he kept trying. He wasn't sleeping in that horrid silence, he wasn't shivering in that cold bed. He wasn't praying for that knock on the door. He took a drink and he tuned again, the strings tightening as he continued in his endeavors. He took another drink. Played the wrong sound. And he drank again. 

He didn't know how long had passed but eventually, he slid from the settee, instrument in hand as he hugged it to himself. What was left of the liquor spilled, some staining the dark settee darker while most dripped into a golden puddle on the floor. He swallowed, remembering how Hamilton had licked the spilled alcohol from his hands and self once before. 

He shivered and sobbed, holding the instrument to his chest and drowning in the scent of alcohol. 

* * *

 

_Crawling back to you,_

_Do I want to see if this feeling flows both ways?_

* * *

 

It was raining and Thomas was knocking on Hamilton's door, praying he was home. Praying he was alone. His shaking hands were slamming against the ornate wood and he hiccuped against the alcohol burning through his system. He blinked as the door opening, bathing Hamilton in a golden light that made him look godly. 

"Thomas?" The Carribean was confused, brows knitted together as he stepped into the rain, hands holding onto the lapels of Thomas' coat in his attempts to keep the man from swaying too far to one side, "It's five in the morning."

"I-I can't sleep."

And Hamilton brought him inside.

Hamilton's house was warm and oddly enough, everything that he had remembered. The dull yellow lights of too many lamps glowed behind the shorter man, bathing his tanned skin in a golden light. The shadows were long and Hamilton rested a hot hand against Thomas' rain-soaked face. 

"Thomas, what are you doing here?" The question was simple and it had so many, too many, answers that the Virginian could say. It was times like this that he remembered how influential of a lawyer Hamilton had been. 

"I can't sleep." He was stuttering and the shaking wasn't stopping and  _oh god_ Hamilton wasn't moving his hand, it was like a weight, keeping Thomas here and away from his anxiety but at the same time, it was like a hot iron and spreading hot fire through his blood. "Alex...I can't sleep."

He was crying and he was tired he couldn't breathe through the gasping. Oh god, he couldn't breathe.  _Why couldn't he breathe?_ Hamilton was guiding him to the floor and he was whispering words that didn't seem like anything until suddenly they were. "Feel the wood floor, listen to my words, smell the candles burning, see the paintings. Thomas, listen to me, in and out." And he followed.

He had no idea how long he had been sitting there, but he became aware to the warm hands running through his hair and Hamilton's body around his. 

"Alex?" His voice was hoarse. 

"Thomas, are you alright?"

"No...I miss you."

"I miss you too."

They said nothing for a long time, only until Thomas took the small hand and held it against his lips. "I'm sorry....please...take me back."

Hamilton buried his face in the mass of curls known as Thomas' hair. "I am."

"Eliza?"

"We were pretending," he said to the curls, "her girlfriend gave us the idea. I wanted you back too."

Thomas was laughing and Alex kissed his temple. And they stayed like that and for the first time in a long while, Thomas' hands were still.

* * *

 

_Do you want me crawling back to you?_


	5. Day 5 - Favorite Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He liked him like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No smut in this one guys, sorry.  
> Had a headache so this one's a bit shorter! 
> 
> Did I mention the kink was Happiness?

Hamilton decided he liked him like this. 

He liked seeing Thomas curled in his lap, sleepy and content as they watched television. The rain was pounding against the windows, with the thunder shaking the foundation, but a long time ago Alexander would have been terrified. But, Thomas had taken that away.

Thunder cracked outside and Thomas rolled over, chest heaving against Alexander's thighs as he yawned, "Are you okay, Alex?"

The Carribean made a humming noise deep in his throat before nodding, "Yeah, just a little rain."

Thomas smiled and buried his face into Alexander's stomach. The smaller man giggled when Thomas continued talking as if his hindrance wasn't an issue, "That's good coming from you. I'm so happy Washington gave us the weekend off."

"He gives us every weekend off."

"Doesn't mean I can't be happy about it."

He could feel Thomas' hands moving from their lax position and crawling up Alexander's legs. The Carribean stiffened and Thomas looked up, an eyebrow raised. It was a question.

He chuckled, nodding once before letting out a sigh, "Hm, too peaceful of a day for you, I take it?"

Fingers trailed up his thighs softly while Alexander let out a strained breath before running his hands through the Virginian's hair. Thomas gave one his signature smirks and nodded. 

"You know me," he purred, "everything is too peaceful."

Alexander rolled his eyes and eventually let out a squeak when fingertips brushed his groin. Thomas purred in response, kissing his lover's nose before moving his head lower. The shorter man's eyes went wide when he felt hands fumble with his belt buckle. 

"Oh," the belt was undone and Alexander squeaked out, " _definitely too peaceful._ "


	6. Day 6 - Favorite Headcanon/Trope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Favorite Headcanon: Alexander walked down the aisle.

They had set their wedding date for the spring. 

The proposal had been a mess originally, Thomas had asked in the middle of sex and Alexander answered yes, but when they had woken up in the morning, they both paused to realize  _oh shit_ they were getting married. So, a mess indeed. 

But other than that, it was normal. Thanks to the Schuyler sisters' abilities to keep Thomas from fretting over the details too much and Alexander just calling the whole thing off out of fear. 

It took four months to plan. 

And today was the day.

* * *

 

"So," James leaned forward, murmuring to Thomas as he fretted with his black suit. The altar was set up and everyone was in place, the only thing they needed was for Alexander to walk down the aisle, "are you ready to get hitched?"

"No. I feel like I'm going to throw up and it hurts to breathe." 

James frowned but clapped him on the shoulder, "You'll be fine. Just wait until you see him. I was terrified until I saw Dolley walk out but then I started crying because she was just so beautiful. You're going to realize that this worry is useless."

Thomas swallowed, switching his weight onto the other foot before nodding, "Thanks, James."

"I can't wait until I get to roast your ass at the reception by the way." James was giggling, "Because, boy! Do I have stories."

"Oh great."

And an organ started playing.

And suddenly, all the heads turned towards the doors as they opened. And suddenly, there was Alexander. 

He was dressed in all white, save for his purple tie. George Washington was at his side, beaming like the proud father he was in spirit. Thomas started smiling wide and his fiance and soon to be husband was almost crying. As he was walked down the aisle, Alexander was beaming, but as he got closer, Thomas could see the flowers wrapped in the shorter man's hair.

They reached the altar and Washington had simply given the younger man a tight hug and laughed. And then the man in white stepped up to the altar, across from Thomas. They joined hands and that was how it went. 

* * *

 

"Okay, okay, so these two were at each other's throats since day one and I never, in my entire life, imagined that they'd get together! Like what the hell?" James was laughing, a glass of champagne in his hand, "And then there was the time I opened this supply closet in the office to find guess what? These two committing sin!" 

Alexander was bright red, forehead resting against the table as the embarrassment threatened to kill him, "I'm going to have to kill him, Thomas."

Thomas rested a hand in his husband's hair with a laugh, "I'm giving you explicit permission."


	7. Day 7 - Unplanned Writing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Has anyone realized that Perfect Thomas is too pure for this world?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the Welcome to Night Vale AU no one ever wanted or asked for!! 
> 
> I started listening to this podcast and it's great.

You're not supposed to get a signal down empty desert roads, it's common sense really. If no one is around, then there should be no radio signal. Thomas blinked, staring up at the lowering sun before slowing down the car to an eventual stop. He leaned forward, unplugging his dying phone, only to have the radio's static burst into life around him. Except, after a few moments, a voice filtered through. And it kept getting stronger.

"Visitors. Are they kind? We don't know. Do they know your secrets? Probably. Are they here to sacrifice you to the old gods they worship? Definitely. Welcome, to Night Vale." Thomas blinked at the man's voice and just sat back, listening to the intro music as it filtered through. He couldn't believe it. He was  _hundreds_ of miles from any civilization, hell, he was deep in a dead zone.

"I can see a visitor on the edge of town, he's probably very confused because there is no radio signal out here," the voice was oddly cozy, listening to it set his teeth on edge but he wanted to listen to it forever, "but, I know he is very cute. And  _oh lord_ that hair! Ah, perfect Thomas is coming to town dear listeners, and are we ready? My heart rate isn't! And now, a new dog park has been opened up on the edge of town..."

* * *

 

Night Vale, in the least, was the oddest place he had ever seen. 

Secret police roamed everywhere, some easier to find than others, a City Council made ever decision and couldn't be argued with, and Old Man Washington lived with Angels! It didn't make sense, but then again, that was probably the point. But so far, the oddest thing in the entire town was the radio host. Alexander Hamilton, he was called, but Thomas had only seen him a few times. 

He wished he could say that it was enough, but he couldn't help wanting to get closer.

"Oh my, Perfect Thomas!" Cried Alexander, sliding into the booth across from Thomas, a wide smile on his face as he continued eating a slice of City-Council-Mandated pizza, "I haven't ever gotten the chance to talk to you! How does the science go?"

"Just fine, Alexander," he replied but he didn't meet the Radio Host's eyes, instead, he stared at the black tattoos crawling up and down his arms in the forms of various sigils, words, and signs, "if you don't mind me asking-"

"Oh never!"

"Okay then, what's with the tattoos?"

He glanced down and for a moment, the light caught his dark eyes and Thomas could have  _sworn_ that they glowed violet but it was gone the second he saw it, "I am the Voice of this town," he waggled his eyebrows and the tattoos moved up his skin, "they keep me connected."

Thomas blinked, he didn't understand the implications, but he did notice the way Alexander's fingers kept twitching towards his.

* * *

 

"You should talk to that radio host more often," James laughed as he finished setting up a large poster of the period table, Thomas glared at his partner before he continued, "He really seems to like you."

"He's the weirdest thing this town has to offer."

James rolled his eyes, "I highly doubt it, have you seen Old Man Washington? He walks around with the Erika's like Angels aren't illegal and not real."

"James?"

"Yeah."

"Shut the hell up."

"Can't do that, you need my science abilities," James was chuckling, moving to unpack the next box before looking up, "the radio show has been going on for awhile. Don't you wonder what the story of the day is?"

Thomas reached for the dial on the radio and the second he turned it up, the booming voice of Alexander that  _really didn't sound like Alexander_ echoed through the speakers, " **All Hail Glow Cloud.** " 

Thomas promptly turned off the radio.

* * *

 

"Okay, everyone," Alexander's voice was shaky and terrified, and Thomas found himself just listening on in fear for the radio host he found to be very annoying, "I'm coming to you live from under my desk." A screeching noise that came from some God-forsaken eldritch horror tore through the speakers before Alexander took over, "And it's really not happy. Well, Night Vale, I hope this isn't my last show."

"Jesus," Jame sighed, walking into the room, face covered in soot from whatever chemical reaction he caused, "what kind of manager does he have?"

Thomas didn't answer, he just continued listening with his stomach twisting as Alexander started stuttering with his fear. "O-Okay, so I think I see an opening! I'm going to run for it and if I don't make it, someone run their hands through Perfect Thomas' hair for me! Good night, Night Vale, goodnight!"

The eldritch screeching didn't stop until the radio cut off. 

Thomas swallowed. He saw Alexander walking down the street the next day, covered in bruises but he just shrugged it off like it really didn't mean anything. He just smiled when he mentioned reading Thomas' letter on the reasons for Station Management to not kill him. 

Alexander always seemed to lean forward, wanting to get closer but Thomas always stood shock still.

* * *

 

Weeks crawled on and the Night Vale weirdness only continued. And with James' teasing predominant, Thomas swore he was going to throttle the other man. There were good days and bad days in Night Vale, good days like Alexander not getting possessed and a non-life threatening monster, bad days when wheat and its by-products turned into snakes or when a Pyramid floated in the sky and nearly vaporized half of the town. Thomas took what he could get in the end.

Except, the sandstorm was different. 

It was the first time he heard a stranger on the radio. 

And it was the first time he heard Alexander  _extremely horrified._

"Oh my god, listeners," The two Virginians perked up at that declaration as they finished taping the windows shut to keep all remanents of sand from the sandstorm out, "there is a portal on the wall. It's weird. It's swirling and dark and calling and listeners...I'm going to be right back."

Thomas nearly lunged at the radio, but he didn't stop himself from practically chanting, "Alexander...don't do it. Oh god, don't leave your studio."

He did. And there was silence...until a new and oddly giddy voice started echoing through the speakers.

"Oh my, Desert Bluffs? Oh my, this isn't my studio! Oh hi, my name is George!" The voice was kind and light but Thomas was shivering and  _wanting to get it away,_ "I just came through this really weird portal and I have to say, this studio is really nice. And there's someone's photo right here. Oh my...they look nothing like me! Except in the eyes, oh we definitely share the same eyes. I should be getting back, I'll be back for you guys! Or who knows? _You'll be back!_ "

And he was gone. Just like that. James and Thomas shared a look, wide eyed and completely shocked because no one ever talked over the radio if Cecil wasn't there. And this person just came in and talked like he owned the place. 

James swallowed and finally said, "Thomas, I think you should-"

"Oh-Oh god, dear listeners, I'm back," Alexander's voice was shaking and sound wrong, "I just met this man on my way back. Oh god,  _he tried to strangle me._ I fought back and almost killed him but then I realized he wasn't my double. Oh god, Night Vale, who was he? His eyes. Jesus,  _his eyes._ They were black. Pure black, nothing else. It was like some had...torn them out. I-I can't do this. Stay safe Night Vale. Stay safe and goodnight Night Vale, goodnight."

* * *

 

Thomas met him on the sidewalk on, what he assumed, was the host's way home. Alexander was curled into a large emerald coat as if he wanted to disappear but Thomas just stepped in front of him. The shorter man was shaking terribly and he hit the Scientist in the chest as if he hadn't seen him. 

"Thomas...?" The Virginian could see dark bruising in the shape of hands around his neck and he shivered, "What are you doing here? The sand...it's still..."

He sighed and rested a hand on The Radio Host's shoulder before sighing, "Alexander...are you okay?"

"I...uh..."

"Don't like to me."

"No...I'm really not."

Thomas stepped forward, wrapping his fuschia-clad arms around the smaller man. Alexander went still with his spine ramrod straight, but Thomas only brought him closer to his chest. They stayed like that for a long time, not moving, just like that. Even though Thomas could have sworn he heard the Secret Police taking photos and cheering.

* * *

 

"Has anyone realized that Perfect Thomas is too pure for this world?"

The Scientist was blushing hard and James was practically singing, " _You like him Thomas! I knew it!"_


	8. Day 8 - Happy Birthday Hamilton!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you think it was a good idea getting Alex completely drunk for his birthday?"
> 
> "Probably not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the last one! Thank you all so much for reading! :)

"Okay, okay," Hercules was sighing, finishing off his drink before he finally raised the empty glass in the direction of the dancefloor, "who was buying Alex's shots?"

"Me." Laurens chuckled, downing his shot, "It's his birthday,  _let him live!_ "

Lafayette gave a drunken giggle, "And it was five shots for five dollars. I haven't seen a deal like that since France and boy! Is it bringing back some great memories."

Hercules rolled his eyes, staring at his dancing friend. He let out a sigh when he saw that the entire dancefloor was aware of the Carribean's birthday. "I'm calling that this was an awful idea."

"Eh," Laurens was giggly, leaning forward and nuzzling into one of his boyfriends, that one being Hercules, "what gives you that idea?"

"He's grinding on Jefferson..."

"And?"

"He's enjoying it."

Lafayette was gagging while Laurens just blinked, "Oh."

* * *

 

" _Herakles_!" Lafayette cried, draping himself over Hercules with a drunken giggle, "where's  _mon petit lion?_ He should be getting home!" The rest dissolved into drunken french that was only stopped by inebriated giggles. 

Hercules scanned the bar for his friend and gaped with a dropped jaw when he found him. Laurens looked up from where Hercules had thrown him over his shoulder, "Oh my god,  _Hercules, Hercules, Hercules, Hercules-_ "

"What?"

"Is Alexander making out with Jeffershit?"

"Yes."

Lafayette tossed his back and crowed, "Oh my god, I knew it! I knew it!"

Hercules rolled his eyes and Laurens started pounding his small fists against his back. Hercules giggled when it started to tickle. "What is it, Sweetie?"

"Why are  _Alex's hands going lower?!"_

 _"_ And we're leaving."

* * *

 

 **A.HamSandwhich:** Hercules!

 **Adonis?:** What?

 **A.HamSandwhich:** Why the hell did you leave me?????

 **Adonis?:** You were drunk. Why?

 **A.HamSandwhich:** I WOKE UP NEXT TO JEFFERSON. AND WE'RE NAKED. AND IT'S BEEN FIFTEEN MINUTES. AND I HAVEN'T STOPPED SCREAMING

 **Adonis?:** ha suffer

 **A.HamSandwich:** he just asked for round two like why the fuaf.vjnfdfnvwsfkljwa

 **Adonis?:** Please repent before work.


End file.
